


True Faith

by Deetvar



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Loss of Parent(s), Wakes & Funerals, light shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22488976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deetvar/pseuds/Deetvar
Summary: With Rodrigue's passing, Dimitri falls further into his despair and Ingrid does her best to bear his departure.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29
Collections: Nagamas Gifts





	True Faith

The stained glass of the cathedral was shattered to bits, statues defaced, and all precious metals and artifacts were stolen. All that remained in this holy room was the remnants of life before that time, and those who entered were just as dead within.   
  
“Lo’ Rodrigue Achilles Fraldarius, you have served your duties well. Now rest, and join the Goddess and the rest of her children in everlasting bliss.” Seteth was kind enough to deliver the eulogy, for neither Felix nor His Highness could force a sound out of their mouths.   
  
Ingrid could not accept it. Fate had deprived Ingrid of her fiance, and now Lord Rodrigue. Even without the arrangement, Ingrid saw Lord Rodrigue as a second father. The time they had spent together were some of the happiest in her life. It had been his words of inspiration that kindled Ingrid’s determination for knighthood even when her own blood father was against the idea.   
  
When news came that he fulfilled his service, Ingrid was devastated. On the march back from Gronder Field, His Highness remained his cold, distant self. In solemnity, the Blue Lions gathered together to offer their respects in this cathedral.   
  
Seteth took his eyes off the scripture and turned his attention to them all. “I had instructed the morticians to handle this matter in accordance to Faerghus custom.”   
  
“Right...a sword held _graciously_ his arms just above his chest, and his body covered in chain mail?” Felix said scornfully.   
  
“That is correct. Preparations have been made, when the time comes he can be laid to rest properly in Fraldarius,” Seteth said, knowing full well the anger swelling within Felix.   
  
He turned once again toward the crowd. “I can not say I knew Lord Rodrigue well. But in the brief time I’ve spent with him, I can certainly claim he was a dutiful and honorable man. A man of conviction and faith. It is...difficult to accept one’s passing...believe me.”   
  
There was a stutter. Seteth was always so protective of himself, hardly letting anyone close enough to see beyond the scope of a mentor or church official.   
  
“Do not forget those who are gone..but it does nothing to be consumed by it. All things must come and go, it is natural to reminiscence and wonder what could have been but always return to the now.”   
  
No one said anything, there was not a word uttered. All anyone could hear was the gentle breeze flowing north of Garreg Mach. Seteth bowed his head. “If any of you have need of me, please do not hesitate to ask. I will be in my study.”   
  
Two attendants came and moved toward the casket, unhinging a lock that exposed Lord Rodrigue’s face. One stepped forward and addressed them. “For anyone wishing to offer their words, now is the time.”   
  
Ingrid took a glance toward Felix, his face contorted with resentment and anger. But his eyes, they looked so forlorn and lost. A duality running in his soul, and which would he choose Ingrid wondered to herself. But as time passed and Felix stared down the aisle, it was clear. He left nothing. It was as good an answer as any.   
  
Everyone said their pieces. It would be rude not to. Regardless if they knew Lord Rodrigue well or not, everyone contributed. Sylvain commended his spirit and wisdom, promising to watch over Felix. Ashe praised him for his valiant deeds over his life, hoping to match even a slimmer of his valor. Mercedes offered her most heartfelt prayer. Annette and Gilbert jointly spoke of his efforts and service to Faerghus, with Gilbert promising to look after His Highness in Rodrigue’s stead. Dedue gave his most sincere thanks in his defense of His Highness.   
  
It finally came time for Ingrid herself. Could she truly face him? Would she find the courage inside herself to see Lord Rodrigue in his state? With Glenn, she never saw his face. Only the Goddess knew how Ingrid had wept for weeks on end at the news of her death, and she never even had the misfortune to look upon his body.   
  
Ingrid’s memory drifted into deep personal moments with Lord Rodrigue. She recalled when he gifted her a copy of the _Sword Of Kyphon_ . The stories of those great heroes, those romances and tragedies. Yet through amidst doom and despair, may duty overtake death.   
  
_“Let me weep, let me grieve greatly. What does my incoming Heart desire? Is it true? Must I depart to an Unknown Place? On earth, hearts are saying ‘May we never die, O Friend.’ O’ my Heart. But truly, my poor will never be destroyed. Before you died, you established your fame O’ King Kyphon.”_

_  
_ Recited purely from memory, Ingrid gave her eulogy. 

* * *

Dimitri kept himself apart from everyone by a league’s distance when they were speaking to Rodrigue with such heavy praise and admiration. But all Dimitri could feel was shame and anguish. He did this himself. Rodrigue’s sacrifice was no different than if Dimitri were to wield the dagger and murder him. It was he who carried out the sentence, condemning Rodrigue to an early grave..   
  
The whispers of the Dead did not retreat and they called out for their vengeance and retribution with greater enthusiasm. 

“Do not fall to despair Dimitri, your life is your own. If you truly wish to honor me, then I suggest you start taking action.” The spirit of Rodrigue had appeared before him, his appearance just as vibrant as if he were alive.   
  
Fear gripped Dimitri’s heart, his chest heavy, and his legs beginning to stagger. “Is that what you truly want? How do I know you are not just another torturous shade?”   
  
“A dead man has no reason to lie.” Dimitri couldn’t face the spirit in earnest so he looked away in shame. 

“Dimitri, I can not remedy your pain in your soul. Nor can I lay to rest the dead. But I implore you, rejoin the living.”   
  
“The living?” Dimitri shook his head. “Do I have any right to be part of the living? How can I be when my soul is broken?”   
  
“Yes. They are waiting for you, Dimitri. I have seen what you have done, and all that you have suffered. Protect them, cherish them, and strive to never fall as before. Perhaps then, you will find the clarity you seek. If you can hold to that promise, then this dead man will be in rest.” Rodrogue spoke with such sincere clarity, just like before.   
  
His image began to fade and Dimitri could see the color of the wall behind through Rodrigue’s body, like holding two scripts of paper through sunlight.   
  
“Rodrigue wait-”   
  
But before Dimitri could say anything more, he vanished. No matter how much he called for him, his voice was not part of the ones that Dimitri could hear from the pleas of the dead. 

* * *

In the mess hall, Ingrid poured herself a warm meal made of succulent broth, soft white hominy, and tender chicken—straight from the pot. On this cold lonesome night, eating some warm comfort food was necessary to release tension within her. She ate alone, still processing what had happened. None to help her console what had happened. That cheesy line of dialogue that had escaped her lips, but had been so close and apt for the occasion.  
  
Felix had confined himself to his room, and probably best for him to search his feelings. Sylvain was keeping him company. Company being the operative word, for Sylvain had remained by his side but no words have been exchanged between them. Ashe was resting for the night for no doubt seeing another experience loss of a father was likely to hurt him hard. Annette was being comforted by her father. Dedue was tending through his best cultivars for Rodrigue. Mercedes was no doubt praying her heart out. 

As Ingrid swirled the spoon around the base of the soup bowl, she heard a creak from the door. The footsteps of a powerful presence made their way through to the kitchen. Turning her head she saw the black pelt of His Highness, his hands fumbling to pour his meal into his bowl.   
  
“The others?” he said with a tremble in his voice.   
  
This wasn’t the Dimitri of her school days, that bright and sincere soul that she so fondly remembered. Nor was this the Dimitri she had been forced to accept, warped by vengeance and self-destruction. This was the vulnerable Dimitri she had hoped to see.   
  
“Attending to their own matters.” Ingrid came to him, taking the spoon from his hands and making his meal. “Allow me, your Highness.”   
  
“Erh..thank you, Ingrid. It’s a bit late..but might you accompany me?”   
  
“Yes, I’d like that very much,” she said with a smile.   
  
They sat down together, Dimitri taking his spoon and having a bit of soup. He chewed on the kernels and chicken, taking time to appreciate its soft texture as he could not taste. The broth was warm and soothing to his parched throat, comforting him on this cold night.   
  
Ingrid did the same, having poured another serving into her bowl. Supplies were low, but it was worth appreciating a meal with her old friend. To compensate, Ingrid decided she’d eat light tomorrow.   
  
“Ingrid. I-” There was a stutter in his voice, a lapse in his thoughts. With the way he lowered his spoon into his bowl, Ingrid knew he had declared defeat. He was no doubt retreating back again into that familiar corner of his mind.   
  
“I-perhaps..um..”   
  
A second attempt, although this time with more enthusiasm in his voice. A dim flash of the man Dimitri once was flared in her mind. However, Dimitri was never one to perfectly convey how he felt. He needed a little tug forward.   
  
“Would you… perhaps like to do something? We haven’t...sparred in a while, have we?”   
  
In truth, the last time they had a sparred they ended it on bitter terms. But perhaps this time, they could mend that sour memory.   
  
“Yes...I’d like that.” An unsure smile appeared on his face, and Ingrid did right by giving him a smile all the same.

“Ingrid.”   
  
“Yes?”   
  
“Thank you. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. And the things I’m feeling..leave me..conflicted. Ever since we were children, I’ve known you as someone to rely on. The knighliest knight I’ve ever known.”   
  
A blush formed on Ingrid’s face. “That’s such high praise, Your Highness...but where is all this coming from? Do not mistake me, this just seems so..abrupt.”   
  
“I’m sorry Ingrid...I’ve been stuck on a path that isn’t like the high romances of your chivalric tales,” he confessed.   
  
“Life is hardly like those stories. They are just a relief and should be seen as nothing more. I understand that.” There was an underlying meaning to Dimitri’s words. Something she’s missing, and yet she felt relieved to hear Dimitri speak...normally.   
  
But it’s still odd. “I’m afraid I’m not following what you perhaps you are trying to say? Or..what you can’t say?”   
  
Was that too far?   
  
“Yes...you’re right. I failed you, Ingrid. Everyone. I need to set out and set things right. First was...reconnecting with all you. I couldn’t bear to face Felix. But I had to be accounted for. I knew you out of everyone would be the fairest in your harsh reprimands. So please..let me have it.”   
  
And there it was, Ingrid was to play judge. Dimitri felt he needed to see his just desserts. But when Ingrid heard his voice speak much of what he had with little wavering, she knew she was talking to a Dimitri in need of help.   
  
“You’re in pain Dimitri. I can not alleviate your suffering, nor can I tell what you must do with it. But you’ve taken the first step. You don’t need to shoulder it alone.”   
  
Ingrid reached for his hand. “Come with me.”   
  
Dimitri accepted it, almost without hesitation. Maybe he was eager for this moment, a brief reprise from Fate. He still had time and purpose.   
  
“Thank you..Ingrid.”   
  
“Let’s go, Dimitri. I think there’s still a meal in that pot for everyone.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The line "from" the Sword of Kyphon is actually the Bereavement Song found in the Cantares Mexicanos. 
> 
> This fic is a gift to @flutterbatwrites from Tumblr.


End file.
